


Soft & Hard

by DragonGirl87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Apparating (Harry Potter), Bickering, Established Relationship, Fluff, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Home Redecoration, M/M, Magic, Moving In Together, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Alternating, Romance, Surprise Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonGirl87/pseuds/DragonGirl87
Summary: In which Draco is forced to grudgingly admit that Harry does have some taste and Harry learns more about mattresses than any sane person should ever know.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 136
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	Soft & Hard

**Author's Note:**

> All thanks go to my amazing wife for her continuous encouragement, patience, and every attempt to keep me sane. <3 <3 <3

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Draco stood in the doorway of Grimmauld Place’s most spacious bedroom and tried his hardest to stop his jaw from dropping, keeping it tightly clenched instead. He couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or give in to the almost irresistible impulse to laugh uncontrollably. What he was currently looking at made absolutely no sense to him, not even a tiny bit, and he found it hard to remind himself that he was stood inside an old Georgian house with several hundred years of history. Nothing in this room even remotely reminded him of the house’s age.

The navy grasscloth accent wall was most definitely giving him the blues. It wasn’t the sad kind, but the making-a-statement colourful type. While it set the tone for the space of the room, added texture, and had caught his eye as soon as Harry had pushed the bedroom door open for him, it also filled Draco with the strong desire to draw his wand and cast an _Incendio_ at it. Admittedly, it provided the perfect backdrop for the linen and caramel leather of the king-sized upholstered bed, the room’s centrepiece. The vaulted wood-panelled ceiling and the oversized globe pendant light fixture was also making a statement. It drew Draco’s eyes upwards, though not for long enough.

He couldn’t stop staring at the floor tiles beneath Harry’s feet which put together created this huge, entirely oversized area rug. The subtle black and white stripes played with pattern and didn’t exactly annoy him, but Draco didn’t like it either. The wood tones and the clean lines of the nightstands on either side of the bed, and the dresser gave the room a strange mid-century vibe, Draco simply couldn’t get behind. He was positively terrified of allowing his mind to have an opinion on the tufted black leather daybed that came with a sculptural c-side table which offered room for a cup of coffee or a spot of not-quite-out-of-bed breakfast. Opposite the bed, a seating area with a streamlined blue velvet lounge chair and a modern totem table lamp offered a space for curling up with a good book or watching Harry sleep ― Draco couldn’t quite decide which he preferred. The room’s navy tones continued throughout, accentuated by a fibre wall hanging, a framed print, and a polka dot pillow in the centre of the bed.

Draco shook his head a little. He was about to settle on expressing his shock with a dropped jaw―somehow, and given that Harry had clearly made an effort with the design of the room, laughing seemed a tad bit too cruel―but Harry’s body language and his posture was what really stopped Draco in his tracks.

The way Harry kept refusing to make eye contact with him that somewhat unsettled him. Harry repeatedly shifted his weight from one foot to the other―which resulted in him swaying slightly from side to side―and glanced around the room while worrying his bottom lip so hard that Draco was convinced it would start to bleed soon.

It wasn’t the sort of behaviour Draco saw often. In fact, Harry rarely acted like this. It was very out of character. In the three years they’d been dating, the one and only other time Harry had been a fidgety mess―sighing quietly to himself and looking stiff and thoroughly uncomfortable―had been when Draco had insisted on taking him to meet his mother. He’d wanted to formally introduce him as his life partner, and something about that had turned Harry into a complete wreck. In the days leading up to their trip to Malfoy Manor, Harry had been snappy, short-fused, distracted, and very, very tense. Of course, within five minutes of their arrival in Wiltshire, Draco’s mother had put Harry at ease, and within the first hour of touring the Manor, they’d been amicably chatting with each other as though they’d always been friends.

So, the Harry Draco knew―the one he’d fallen in love with―was mostly outgoing, sassy, and, at times, overly confident. Sometimes he was also so ridiculously stupid, cracking one silly joke after the other, that Draco often found himself clutching his belly and howling with laughter until his eyes were burning with unshed tears. It wasn’t the kind of reaction Draco was incredibly proud of, but over the years he’d learnt to take it in his stride, and if he was absolutely honest, he loved the fact that Harry―and only Harry―could bring out a side of him, he’d always kept hidden from everyone. Seeing that side of him, it was a gift for Harry and only Harry.

Though, what had really drawn Draco to Harry was that ninety-nine per cent of the time, Harry knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of pursuing it either. That cocksure insolence really did unspeakable things to Draco and was how, after a year of Harry’s relentless pursuit of him, he’d finally relented and agreed to a date. That evening together with Harry had changed everything, so much that Draco didn’t really like looking back at what his life had been like before Harry had boldly gone and turned it upside down.

Post-war, Harry had most definitely become an entirely different kind of man.

He possessed a kind of attitude that Draco was totally infatuated with; to the degree that he occasionally found it a bit embarrassing. Though, these days, he’d stopped carrying quite so much. There was just something about Harry’s bold assertiveness, and the way he commanded a room, that simply got to Draco and melted a fierce part of him. When in Harry’s presence, he generally found it hard to exercise any kind of self-control.

Of course, Draco was loath to admit that to anyone, had at some point even struggled to admit to himself, but the way Harry held himself, the way he talked, and the way he tackled problems turned Draco into a pile of goo on almost a daily basis. Three years into their relationship, and on the verge of moving in together, Draco didn’t think his affliction was going to change any time soon.

Naturally, despite growing up and becoming a mostly responsible human being, there were still things about Harry that Draco didn’t think would ever change. Even nine years after they’d both graduated from a voluntary eighth year at Hogwarts, Harry was still the kind of Gryffindork who jumped headfirst into all sorts of precarious situations. His proclivity for getting himself into a serious pickle was genuinely astounding, and Draco often wondered how he hadn’t died of a heart attack just yet. He’d most definitely come close on quite a few occasions.

Salazar knew Harry managed to scare him half to death every other month and for some inexplicable reason threatening him with stinging hexes to his behind had, much to Draco’s dismay, lost its potency.

Somehow, the complete dunderhead had this utterly uncanny ability to either escape death by a hair’s breadth or narrowly avoid ending up seriously maimed. Whichever it was, there was the occasional moment where Draco actively struggled to choose between his desire to strangle Harry with his bare hands and ignoring the itch in his fingertips which made him want to write Harry’s resignation notice and hand-deliver it to Shacklebolt’s office.

“You hate it.”

Harry’s matter-of-fact assertion pulled Draco back into the here and now and he snapped his head around. Blinking a few times, he looked at Harry and opened his mouth with the very intention of telling him that he was wrong. However, the lie refused to make it past his lips and with a suppressed sigh, Draco took a proper step into the bedroom.

The doors to the outrageously large―and presently empty―walk-in wardrobe and the master bathroom stood wide open and glancing into the en-suite, Draco dithered, grappling with himself while fervently trying to think of a diplomatic way to express his opinion.

The bathroom’s light grey walls and an abundance of natural light, streaming in through the large floor-length windows, created a calming vibe and although he wasn’t on edge, Draco allowed the room to influence him. The oversized freestanding tub―it comfortably fitted four―intrigued him, and taking a step towards the open door, Draco took a closer look and smiled. The shower was positively gigantic and featured two rain showerheads and playful blue penny floor tiles. A large round mirror and linear sconces tied in with the modern elements of the room and provided the perfect place for getting ready in the morning. The wood front of the vanity, which had two basins built into it, along with the wooden stool by the tub brought a kind of warmth to the room that contrasted nicely with the cooler tones in the space.

Draco shook his head and turning his back to the bathroom, he looked straight at Harry.

“That’s not true,” he said.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and adjusting his stance, he squared his shoulder a bit to convey confidence along with his words.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, held his gaze, then scoffed.

“Bullshit, Malfoy.”

Draco barely managed to suppress the sputter of annoyance that welled up inside him and fixed Harry with a piqued glower. He kept his lips firmly pressed together and forced his irritation aside before his magical core had the chance to flare up. Wild bursts of Harry’s magic, brought on by strong emotions, absolutely had the potential to turn a room upside down ― Draco had seen it with his own eyes when they’d first started to renovate Grimmauld Place. Harry had been adamant about removing every trace of Walburga Black’s magic. Whenever the house’s old charms and protective spells had tried to stop him from making drastic changes to the place, he’d responded with untameable gusts of magic, obstinately making it clear that it was either his way or no way.

Draco’s magic, on the other hand, was slightly more refined. It still had an element of unpredictability to it, but due to his upbringing, there was a lot more sophistication to Draco’s magical flare-ups. There were moments when he, too, wanted to lose control and let it dance around him like a feral beast but something always stopped him, and while he wasn’t above letting his magic show, he tended to keep a lid on it whenever possible.

“I mean it, I don’t hate it per se.”

Making a slight amendment, Draco took another sweeping glance around the room.

“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the bathroom. There’s just something that’s off about the colours in the room. They don’t especially excite me.”

Harry merely arched an eyebrow at him, and Draco let out a soft sigh.

He drew his wand, and carefully holding it his hand with the hilt snuggly resting in his palm, he took a few steps around the room, tilting his head from one side to the other as he contemplated what changes he wanted to make to the room. Draco considered his options for several minutes, waiting for a few ideas to come to him. He smiled at Harry, who eyed him somewhat suspiciously but did nothing to stop him.

“I feel that these walls are very cool, it feels a bit like a dungeon,” Draco said after another moment of considering his options.

When Harry snorted behind him, he rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to turn around.

“Very mature, Potter,” he drawled.

“Well, given your house alliance, I always thought you felt comfortable down in the dungeons.”

This time, Draco did turn around.

He glared at Harry through narrowed eyes, fixing him with an icy glower.

“Bit late for house rivalry, don’t you think?”

Harry smirked.

He shrugged.

“If it gets a rise out of you then it’s never too late,” he said.

Draco pressed his lips together and said nothing else. He swished his wand, and with a non-verbal incantation, he replaced the navy grasscloth accent wall covering with a sand-coloured one. In an instant, the space felt warm and enveloping.

“There, that’s a start,” he mumbled.

He took another moment to consider his options and swishing his wand again, he set about giving his and Harry’s future bedroom a radical makeover. A murmured spell replaced the room’s centrepiece, the king-sized bed with its caramel leather upholstery with something a little more age-appropriate and elegant; a cane bed. Draco spelt it a wider to take full advantage of the spacious room, opting for a 180cmx200cm super-king rather than the king-sized bed, Harry had initially given them.

His decision resulted in Harry snickering under his breath but ignoring him entirely, Draco simply proceeded. He replaced the tufted black leather daybed with a much smoother and more modern leather bench, opted for ridged industrial nightstands and some beautiful tonal white art―depicting an abstract mix of thick and thin lines on an off-white canvas―above the bed. He left the large area rug but changed its colour to black to ground the space. With a confident swoosh of his wand, Draco replaced the streamlined blue velvet lounge chair with a much broader lounge sofa. It offered enough room for both him and Harry to snuggle up to each other for some quality time spent out of bed but still in the privacy and comfort of their own bedroom. He also procured a few gauze-textured grey-and-black square pillows and a cream-coloured double-cloth blanket to decorate the lounging space.

Finally, rustic wood beams on the ceiling tied in with the now natural feel of the room and a staggered glass six-light chandelier brought a bit of sleekness and shine to the place. The plain brown dresser was the last to go. Draco replaced it with a black twelve-drawer double dresser the width of the bed, then took a few moments to admire his handiwork only to eventually nod in approval.

“What do you think?” he asked, slowly turning to face Harry, who looked at him for the longest time.

In fact, he remained silent for so long that Draco couldn’t decide whether he’d stunned Harry speechless or whether Harry was taking an extraordinary amount of time to carefully compose an eloquent way of telling him that he disliked his changes.

Trying not to let his nervousness get the better of him, Draco refused to shuffle from one foot to the other and sheathing his wand, he forced himself to be patient.

“It’s not bad,” Harry eventually said, “there’s just one small problem.”

Draco frowned.

“What problem?” he asked.

Harry chuckled.

“Take a long hard look, don’t you think something is missing here to complete everything?”

Draco glanced around the room.

He scrutinised the wallpaper, the new nightstands, dresser, artwork, bedside lamps, chandelier, rug, lounge sofa and daybed but found nothing amiss. It was only when his eyes settled on the actual bed that the pin finally dropped and he sighed dramatically. In his rush to create the perfect design, a slight step up from Harry’s initial offer, he’d forgotten all about a mattress, pillows, a duvet, and fresh linen. While the room was perfect, the bed only consisted of a frame and nothing else. Since one couldn’t conjure up something lasting out of nothing―magic dictated that you could only invest magic to create a temporary illusion―they were now stuck with a bare bed frame.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Unless we opt for the daybed or the back of that new and fancy sofa, I don’t see how that’s possible. I’m too old for carpet burns.”

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry and smirked. He suppressed his desire to remind Harry of their last holiday up in the very north of Scotland where they’d made excellent use―or misuse, depending on one’s individual point of view―of the hotel room’s extremely thick and plush shaggy rug.

“I guess we’re going mattress shopping,” he said instead.

The positively mischievous twinkle in Harry’s eyes was mildly concerning, and Draco briefly wondered whether he ought to be scared. After a silent debate with himself, he opted for ‘overly cautious’ ― suspecting that Harry was planning one or another of his monkey tricks.

“Don’t even think about it,” Draco warned.

Harry chuckled.

“Think about what?” he asked.

The look on Harry’s face screamed, _I’m-entirely-innocent-and-there’s-nothing-you-can-do-about-that_.

Draco scoffed.

He knew Harry better than that.

“Potter, you look utterly ridiculous trying to pull off this poppycock act of moral excellence. What time is it anyway?”

Harry remained silent for a moment or two. His crooked smirk told Draco that he was considering a comeback or a change of topic. Although his breath wasn’t exactly bated, Draco waited for Harry to make his decision ― he chose to ignore the dig and pretend that he’d only heard the question.

“Twenty to eleven? Why?”

“Perfect, we’ll go mattress-shopping today. Best to get this out of the way as soon as possible. Surely that smartphone of yours has the address to a Muggle place that sells mattresses?”

Harry sighed.

“What’s the rush?” he asked.

Draco rather dramatically rolled his eyes at him.

“You wanted a housewarming party Potter, and in case you have forgotten all about it, that’s happening the day after tomorrow. Since your heathen friends will undoubtedly demand a tour of the newly renovated place, and I’m very much looking forward to making their jaws drop when they see what we’ve done to make Grimmauld Place inhabitable, this room absolutely needs to be presentable. Right this moment, it’s anything but fit to be seen. I will not embarrass myself in front of an entire clan of Weasleys, at least not if you want this relationship to last.”

Harry’s laugh mildly infuriated Draco, but there was also something warm about it that wormed its way underneath his skin and made it somewhat challenging to be more than slightly peeved. For a moment, Draco stubbornly fixed his gaze on one of the narrow, profiled glazing bars that divided the Master bedroom’s Georgian sash windows into fifteen smaller glass panes. Eventually, his resolve broke and unable to keep a straight face, he gave in and smiled.

“Gotcha.”

Harry’s voice was fond and carried a slightly husky undertone with it. It was also so close that Draco struggled to continue to focus on the window. He turned his head slightly and found Harry standing right next to him. He felt Harry’s hand slither around his waist and rather willingly leant into the embrace when Harry pulled him closer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco mumbled.

He tried his hardest to pretend that the playful notes of lavender, honeydew melon, pink pepper, and pineapple leaf―the foundation of the ridiculously expensive fragrance he’d bought for Harry for Christmas―weren't getting to him. The unique blend of smells teamed with patchouli leaves and produced an intense yet distinctive scent that Draco wasn’t entirely immune against. It was daring and bold, the very embodiment of Harry’s character. Inhaling deeply, Draco shuffled a little closer. Even though it reverberated in the small space between Harry’s lips and the side of his neck, he resolutely ignored Harry’s warm chuckle and watched as Harry pulled out his phone. It was encased in a magic-repelling protective cover that still allowed Harry to use the phone without having to fear that the remnant magic lingering inside the room was going to mess with the phone’s mild electric currents.

Draco watched, silently, as Harry unlocked the phone with a practised swipe of his finger and with a few more taps and swipes, he opened something that looked like a map and typed a few keywords. The map promptly zoomed in on Central London and offered an address for _And So To Bed_ at 15 Orchard Street, less than a stone’s throw away from the Marble Arch.

“Perfectly Muggle, experts in their field, luxurious, slightly overpriced and with a five-star rating. It’s open if you fancy a trip across London,” Harry said.

Draco nodded approvingly.

“I do fancy a trip. Apparate us?”

Harry smiled.

“Sure, but I’m afraid the closest I can get us is somewhere inside Hyde Park or the nearest tube station.”

Draco pursed his lips in mild disgust.

“The park, I shan’t be seen crawling out of a creepy underground tunnel network like some sort of rat.”

He spat that last word like some sort of insult and felt a shudder surge through him. There was a lot of Muggle stuff Harry had successfully introduced him to, but there was something about trains that ran underground that thoroughly crept Draco out. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it and didn’t fancy dwelling on what exactly made him uncomfortable about the idea, but the first―and last―time Harry had tried to convince him to take the tube, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t partial to any and all things Muggle. He had his limits, and the London underground fell into that category.

Harry’s amused laugh annoyed Draco thoroughly, but instead of allowing it to really get to him, he simply snatched the phone out of Harry’s hand and commandeered the internet browser. At the same time, Harry temporarily lowered the anti-apparition wards that protected Grimmauld Place and focused on getting them to their destination. To avoid negatively affecting Harry’s concentration, Draco momentarily stopped checking stuff on Harry’s phone and emptying his mind, he allowed Harry to firmly grasp his biceps in preparation for a spot of side-along apparition.

A moment later, their future bedroom whirled out of focus, and they disappeared into nothingness.

The world around Draco swirled, fast and without any regard to whether his stomach was happy about the sudden disruption to stillness or not.

It was hazy, distorted, and shadowy, but the trip was brief, and before Draco had the chance to acclimatise himself with his foggy surroundings, the journey was already over. He and Harry landed, somewhat concealed, just behind a large and old tree. Beneath them a patch of immaculately cut green grass stretched across the ground and taking a second to push past the slight queasiness that lingered in the pit of his stomach, Draco inhaled deeply through his nose. The grass smelt fresh and clean and looking up, Draco spotted a pair of sparrows, huddled close together, twittering away on of the tree’s lower branches. They seemed deeply engrossed in their conversation, and with a half-smile that tugged on the left corner of his mouth, Draco straightened himself up.

He cleared his throat, tugged on the sleeves of his shirt, and plucked a tiny piece of white fluff off his black designer slacks.

“Lead the way then, Potter.”

Harry flashed him a broad grin and offered him his arm. Draco hooked his own through it, and together they walked across the smooth, evenly-cut grass towards the nearest paved path. Whilst doing so, Draco flipped through several internet pages on Harry’s phone until he found a page titled, _All Types Of Mattresses Explained – What Are The Pros & Cons Of Each?_ He scrolled up and down, skimmed over the information and with a satisfied nod, he locked and pocketed the device.

“Thief,” Harry hissed under his breath.

“Not!”

Draco objected instantly.

He turned his head just in time to see Harry roll his eyes.

“I don’t get you, Malfoy. Every time I offer to buy you our own Muggle phone, you tell me you’ve no use for it, but you can’t help steal mine any chance you get.”

“It’s not called stealing when you return it.”

“Borrow then, whatever, it’s all semantics,” Harry said with a somewhat exasperated sigh.

Draco chuckled.

“You’re cute when your feathers are all ruffled, Potter.”

Harry growled.

“I’m not _cute_ , Malfoy, say that again, and I’ll hex your balls to the north pole.”

Draco laughed.

“You’d never, you rather like my balls. I have it on very good authority that you’re quite attached to regularly providing them with a thoroughly good time.”

Harry’s eyeroll was quite impressive, but Draco made a point not to comment on it lest Harry decided that he couldn’t be bothered to spend the day shopping for a suitable mattress for their new bed.

“Admittedly, I do, however, that won’t stop me from directing a stinging hex into the general direction of your buttocks.”

Draco sniggered.

“Kinky, Potter, kinky.”

Harry scoffed but said nothing else and they walked in silence, exiting Hyde Park, and making their way directly towards Orchard Street. It was a warm and sunny day, and there wasn’t a cloud anywhere in sight. Even though it was only early spring, Draco was too warm and taking his luxurious grey knee-length Muggle wool/cashmere blend coat off, he casually draped it over his arm, and he and Harry continued walking.

They arrived about fifteen minutes later, and inspecting the opulent displays in the shopping windows, Draco turned his head slightly, smiled at Harry and nodded approvingly.

“I knew you’d like it.”

Draco chuckled.

“Seems like you do pay attention. Is that lost-in-another-world-act just some form of pretence to keep everyone off your back?”

Harry laughed.

“You tell me, Malfoy.”

“Hm, you do have a couple of secrets that make you interesting.”

“Apparently even interesting enough for you to want to move in with me.”

Draco smirked.

“That’s just because I want to get to the bottom of all those secrets and I figured spending as much time as possible near you will absolutely help me with that.”

Harry grinned.

It was a lopsided sort of grin―one Draco was rather fond of―and Harry’s bespectacled green eyes twinkled with the kind of charming mischief that always drew Draco in. It ignited something in him, the desire to both put Harry in his place for being such a complete prankster but also the pleasure of watching him be himself. When it was just the two of them, Harry didn’t feel the need to hide behind any of his masks. He was just comfortable to be who he was. He was sassy, cheeky, and full of sarcasm. With him, there was hardly ever a dull moment and even though Draco often chastised Harry for his boldness, he secretly also relished in it, found it refreshing, and thoroughly entertaining.

He suspected that Harry knew this and that it was part of the reason why he didn’t feel the need to change. The knowledge that someone knew him that well, knew him that intimately, only reinforced Draco’s belief that his decision to move in with Harry was the right one.

Renovating Grimmauld Place hadn’t exactly been an easy feat, and they’d often disagreed on just about anything. Frustration over lack of progress had been the reason for the one or other full-fledged argument but somehow―and Draco couldn’t stop marvelling about that aspect of their relationship―it didn’t matter how loudly they shouted at each other. Harry and he didn’t know how to stay mad at each other.

Well, at least not for more than a couple of hours at a time. It was like they simply needed a have a sparring match. But once they’d shouted a few obscenities at each other and said a few other nasty things, the desire to rationally work through the issue prevented their fights from escalating into anything that had the potential to cause a significant rift in their relationship.

“And what will you do once you know absolutely everything there is to know about me?”

Harry’s question drew Draco out of his thoughts. It also made him laugh.

“I should hope it’ll be a while before I know everything there is to know about you, Potter, but nevertheless, should you one day become predictable, I’ll develop a few secrets of my own, and the Auror in you simply won’t be able to resist me.”

Harry chuckled softly.

“I look forward to that day, Malfoy, although, if you absolutely must know, I already can’t resist you though the reasons for that are entirely unrelated to any secrets you might or might not be keeping from me. Now, shall we head inside and have a look around the place?”

Draco nodded.

“After you.”

“How very chivalrous of you.”

Draco shrugged.

“I do try my best,” he said ignored the mumbled ‘occasionally’ that fell from Harry’s lips as they entered through the electric sliding doors.

Draco was still in two minds about those, but over the years he’d spent enough time traversing around Muggle London to get used to most Muggle oddities. Jumping out of his skin in fright was a thing of the past.

In recent years, he’d settled for silent acceptance and quiet indifference. Some Muggle inventions still felt strange to him, but thanks to Harry he’d acquainted himself with most of them. Some truly made life more comfortable, others stunned Draco into complete disbelief or sparked intense curiosity and the desire to master them. So far, none had led him to judge Muggles in any way. His opinions and beliefs had changed a long time ago, and Harry had opened his mind to many things. Gone was the boy who took his father’s words for gospel. Draco prided himself on the fact that he’d grown, changed, and adapted to a new way of thinking. He no longer dismissed things because he didn’t know anything about them and only judged people once he’d had the chance to get to know them at least a little bit, for the most part anyway. There was the occasional exception, of course. In Draco’s book, a fashion faux pas was an inexcusable crime, and Draco judged people who committed them harshly and with wild abandon.

Upon walking into the shop, Draco felt Harry’s hand slip into his own and giving it a slight squeeze, he turned his head and smiled at Harry, who gave him a cheeky wink. They hadn’t managed to get especially far when a middle-aged shop assistant, dressed in navy slacks, a white button-up shirt but no tie, and a form-shaping navy waistcoat approached them. Her nametag told Draco that her name was Brenda.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you?”

Draco opened his mouth to answer the question, but before he could utter the first word, Harry beat him to it.

“We’re looking for a new mattress for our bed. Unfortunately, it’s been delivered without one, and the company has been rather unwilling to supply us with the missing piece.”

Not entirely sure whether Harry was in a roundabout way mocking him or using a creative cover story, Draco pressed his lips together, swallowed a lingering hint of annoyance and forced himself to smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry for that terrible experience, that’s got to have been a proper pain and not really what you want when you’re decorating a new home. Are you two lovelies married?”

Draco’s first reaction to that question was to sputter rather indignantly and straightening himself up, he squared his shoulders. He put on his poshest Wiltshire accent, the one he reserved for whenever he visited his mother at the Manor, especially when she had guests and expected him to behave in a certain way.

“As a matter of fact, we’re not, though I’m not entirely sure why―”

“Don’t mind him, he’s rather private.”

Fortunately, Harry cut in and stopped Draco from snapping at the poor woman, who already looked slightly taken aback over his rather curt reaction to her question.

Draco forced himself to smile. He did so through slightly gritted teeth and felt a sense of accomplishment when Brenda looked rather uncomfortable.

“Oh, please don’t mind me, I’m a bit of a curious one. I don’t judge. You’re an adorable couple. But I’m sure you didn’t come here to listen to compliments from an old lady. It’s a new mattress you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded.

“Yes,” he said.

Brenda clapped her hands together and smiled broadly.

“I’m confident we’ll find you something suitable. We have quite the selection, and even if we don’t have it in-store, if it’s in our catalogue, I can order it from the warehouse, and they’ll deliver it within twenty-four hours. Do you know the size you need?”

Draco couldn’t help but somewhat admire Brenda’s professionalism, and he decided to ignore her earlier prying question. He erased it from his memory, smiled more sincerely and prepared to answer her question.

“It’s a super-king-sized bed.”

Brenda nodded.

“180cm by 200cm, wonderful. If you gentlemen would like to follow me down to the basement? We’ve got quite a few choices to select from.”

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

Several hours later, and with a cloud of exhaustion firmly looming over his head, Harry found himself sitting on the edge daybed at the foot of his and Draco’s new bed. He stretched his socked feet out in front of him, tilted his neck from one side to the other and grumbled at the stiffness of it. To make matters worse, he felt somewhat peckish, and his stomach was quite unhappy about having been neglected and denied a proper lunch.

Draco had kindly offered to prepare them both some sandwiches and Harry had gratefully accepted the offer. He didn’t think he had the energy to walk downstairs, let alone muster the concentration it took to apparate within the walls of Grimmauld Place.

Rubbing his sore neck, Harry turned around to glance at the new mattress which he and Draco had, not without some difficulty, managed to shrink, transport home, restore to its original size and manoeuvre onto the bed.

Part of Harry wanted to be annoyed―he hadn’t expected that shopping for a mattress would take quite this long―but his desire to distract himself from the fact that he was absolutely famished kept him from pursuing his mild irritation. He now knew more about mattresses than he’d learned in his entire life, much more than he’d ever wanted to know.

Apparently, and according to consumer reports, innerspring mattresses were the most common type sold, however, in recent years the trend was very much moving toward other kinds of beds, like memory foam, adjustable, and air. Coil mattresses, as they were also called, existed since the early 1900s and were constructed of steel coils that compressed when one put weight on them. The shape, size, and the number of coils in a mattress sometimes varied greatly, but generally, the more coils there were, the higher quality the mattress was and the more support it offered. Another reason why this type of mattress sold so well was its affordability, but the downside of the innerspring was that it wore out faster. So, springiness and bounce aside, while the innerspring had its qualities, over the years, it also cost more. The very mention of the possibility of audible squeaking had turned Draco off entirely.

Harry couldn’t help but scoff.

Draco most definitely hadn’t appreciated his sarcastic comment about how the squeaking could also be taken as proof of a highly enjoyable intimate moment or two. His silvery grey eyes had narrowed to tiny slits, and he’d pressed his lips to tightly together that Harry had taken a cautious step back before suggesting that they look at over options. Somehow, the change of topic had satisfied Draco enough to drop the subject.

Much to Harry’s horror, compressing coils weren’t the only coils in existence. No, there also were continuous coils which used a single wire to form the support for the entire bed. Compared to traditional coils, continuous coils were made into an S-shape. That had most definitely appealed to Draco, the gleam in his eyes had been a dead giveaway. But when Harry had jokingly mocked him about slowly turning their home into a Slytherin shrine, Draco―and Harry was sure he’d done that just to spite him― had spent an entire twenty minutes debating the pros and cons of Bonnell coils. According to Brenda, these were the first coils ever invented, and to this day they were still commonly used. Initially made for buggy seat cushions in the 1800s, they looked like an hourglass and formed a helix-like structure when put together and were quite a bit pricier.

To make matters even worse, Draco had then―quite deliberately―tortured him with a detailed explanation about the merits of offset coils which didn’t squeak. These coils also formed an hourglass-like shape, but notably, the tops and bottoms had flattened edges which created a hinging effect that conformed quite perfectly to the shape of one’s body, resulting in sturdiness, durability, and quiet support.

Harry groaned.

His mind was spinning, and all he could think about was various mattress components…

Innerspring, continuous, Bonnell, offset… and Marshall!

Yes, those.

Wrapped and encased coils, made of a thin-gauge barrel-shaped design, and unlike the others, these were not wired together and worked independently, offering the highest level of support plus motion isolation.

One also had to pay close attention to the coil gauge of a mattress. Apparently, the higher the number, the thinner gauge and vice versa. And to make matters even more confusing, the thinner the gauge, the softer the bed. They’d then debated―for a solid half-hour no less―whether they wanted a soft mattress of a firm one and Harry chuckled under his breath. Despite the large amount of useless information that currently swirled around his brain―stubbornly refusing to disappear down the drain―he was rather proud of the fact that he’d managed to stand his ground and demand firm back support. A few well-chosen arguments had won Draco over, and they’d decided against a soft mattress.

As if all that knowledge about coils wasn’t enough, Draco’s eyes had sparkled with genuine interest when Brenda had introduced him to the concept of memory foam. Draco had all but hung on to her every word, wanting to understand exactly how and why this type of foam had the ability to form memories. Somehow, and Harry had found this utterly endearing, Draco had somehow managed to compare the memory foam to a Pensive, thinking it was able to store memories in much the same way. Thankfully, he hadn’t mentioned anything magical in front of Brenda. Harry, entirely uninterested in learning that NASA had invented memory foam in 1966 to improve the safety of aircraft cushions, had simply stared at Draco’s face and thought of the many reasons why he loved Draco.

His love was unconditional, and it was moments like this when Harry witnessed Draco’s childlike excitement and the genuine joy, he so clearly felt whenever the Muggle world baffled him completely. It wasn’t often that Harry saw that side of Draco. He was extremely good at remaining composed and in complete control of his emotions, but sometimes, just sometimes, he dropped the mask, and Harry got a glimpse that the boy Draco had always wanted but never been allowed, to be.

Something fierce clenched around Harry’s heart and to distract himself from the swell of emotions inside his chest, he stubbornly focused on recalling most of the benefits of memory foam.

“The extra cushioning and the strong support make memory foam ideal for side sleepers and people with painful conditions, it relieves pressure points, helps with proper spinal alignment, allows for motion isolation, is resistant to dust mites and allergens and works perfectly with adjustable― _Ow_!”

Harry rubbed his upper arm and glared at Draco who stood in the doorway of what would soon be their bedroom.

“Whatever was that stinging hex for?” he asked.

A deep frown creased his brow.

“For lying,” Draco said with complete and utter nonchalance.

Harry huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t lie, I never do.”

Draco, carrying a tray with a plate of sandwiches and two cups of piping hot coffee, walked into the room and dared to grin. It was a lopsided sort of grin and while Harry usually found it endearing, right this moment he was piqued.

“True that, Potter, you don’t like, I’ll give you that. However, occasionally you refrain from telling the truth.”

Harry pressed his lips together and kept his arms crossed.

“That’s two sides of the same coin,” he grumbled under his breath.

Draco laughed.

“Perhaps. Nevertheless, it’s nice to know that your mind didn’t drift off completely while I made every effort to pick the perfect mattress.”

“I’ll be depositing most of these useless facts in my Pensive shortly. I have enough of them floating around my head. I can’t think about anything else but coils, gel, and latex.”

Draco’s laugh was genuine, and Harry tried his best to look vexed but Draco―knowing him all too well―bribed him with food and thoroughly distracted by the freshness of the bread, the thick layer of butter, goat’s cheese, and smoked ham, Harry reached for half a sandwich and sank his teeth into it. He let out a muffled but guttural groan, chewed, and lifted his favourite coffee mug off the tray.

“I hate you.”

There was no zest behind his words.

Harry didn’t mean them.

He never had.

But it was something he said whenever the fact that Draco had managed to worm his way underneath his skin vexed him. The knowledge that Draco knew him well enough to tell when he was genuinely mad about something or pretending to be upset, filled him with an all-consuming and powerful kind of warmth, one he sometimes didn’t know how to handle. While he’d never outright asked Draco about it, he highly suspected that the feeling was mutual. There was a charming sort of magic to it that prevented Harry from ever bringing it up in a conversation. It was an irresistible kind of sensation and Harry, though loath to admit this out loud, rather enjoyed it.

There was something truly remarkable about the love he and Draco shared and looking up at Draco, who’d yet to drink his own coffee or eat his own sandwich, Harry blinked and smiled.

“I can’t wait to share this bed with you,” he said.

His voice was quiet, and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks.

Draco’s stance changed in an instant. He relaxed, took a step forward, and placing the tray, he’d carried upstairs, between them, he sat down on the daybed. His eyes lingered on the bed―they’d yet to make it―and several moments of silence passed before he turned his head.

“Me neither.”

His confession was quiet, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but Harry equated the words with an ‘I love you’ shouted from the rooftop of London’s highest building.

He felt his lips curl upward and grinned.

“Today was absolutely worth it.”

Draco, in the middle of reaching for his sandwich, paused and their eyes locked. Unable to look away, Harry swallowed hard and before he could stop himself, to words slipped past his lips.”

“Marry me.”

Draco’s jaw dropped in shock, and he blinked, swallowed hard, then blinked again.

“Did you just― Did you just ask me what I think you asked me?”

Harry chuckled.

It was a nervous chuckle and putting his sandwich down, he wrapped both hands around his coffee mug, relished in its radiating warmth, and boldly nodded.

“I think I did.”

“Did you― Did you― Are you serious?”

Although his stomach was full to the brim with madly fluttering butterflies, Harry nodded without hesitation.

“Yes,” he said, “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. I don’t have a ring for you, that is not yet and if you even want, one, but fuck, Draco, we both know we’re dead serious about this relationship, hell, we spent months fixing this place up with the very intention of building a future together. It just feels right, marry me.”

“I’m not sure whether to kiss you or curse you, Potter.”

Harry felt his nerves dissipate. His signature boldness was more potent and more powerful, and even though they initially tried to resist, the butterflies in his stomach gradually calmed down. They grudgingly returned to their home in the pit of his stomach.

“I’d say both but your repertoire of curses is one I’m actually afraid of so despite all of my Gryffindor bravery, I’m going to be sensible and let my inner Slytherin choose self-preservation.”

Though not entirely unsuspected, but surprising nonetheless, Draco’s laugh echoed through the room. His stunningly beautiful silvery-grey eyes―two deep pools of swirling storms―twinkled with mirth and Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“I swear, Potter, one day you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Well, let’s up that day is still lightyears away. Now, kindly quit beating around the bush and answer my question.”

Draco arched his eyebrow, and because Harry knew exactly what was coming, he silently cursed him.

“Remind me again, what question was that again? I don’t think you asked properly.”

Harry pressed his lips tightly together and flicking his gaze at the floor, he swallowed hard. Somehow, just blurting it out was a lot less daunting than getting down on one knee to formally propose. He tightened his grip on his mug, inhaled deeply through his nose, and took a moment to quietly encourage himself. He knew, without the shadow of the doubt, that Draco wouldn’t give him a positive answer unless he grabbed the dragon by its talons and did as he’d been told.

Somewhat reluctantly setting his mug down, Harry cleared his throat, and clasping his hands tightly together, he moved off the daybed and tried his best to inject at least a bit of grace into his movement. He slid onto his knee, adjusted his stance a bit, took one more deep breath, and lifted his gaze to look directly at Draco. He wasn’t in the least bit surprised by the fact that Draco’s earlier bravado had disappeared completely. Instead, he was nervously worrying his bottom lip and trying his hardest to stop himself from fidgeting.

Harry only just about managed to bite back a devilish smirk but filled the moment away for future reference. There was no way he was going to let Draco live this down without demanding some sort of retribution.

“Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?”

For a moment, Harry had been convinced that he’d stumble over his own words, or perhaps get stuck halfway, but much to his astonishment his voice was steady and filled with conviction, assuring him that he was absolutely doing the right thing.

A few seconds of silence lingered between them, then Draco nodded. He swallowed, cleared his throat, then swallowed again.

“Absolutely yes.”

Harry grinned and unable to contain his excitement, he formed a fist and punched the air.

“Although, I reserve the right to withdraw my consent if you do that again, Potter.”

Harry laughed.

“That response is legally binding, Malfoy.”

Draco scoffed.

“Like you’d know anything about Wizarding law.”

“Oi, I’m an Auror, I know enough.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, but only because I keep telling you.”

Harry mockingly glared at Draco, then a thought crossed his mind, and he chuckled.

“I guess our upcoming housewarming party will also be our engagement celebration.”

“Absolutely―”

“Eat your sandwich, Malfoy, two days or not, we can pull this off.”

Draco sputtered and went to object, but Harry simply shushed him.

“Trust me, it’s better that way, I know my family.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“And I know mine, or at least what’s left of it.”

Harry laughed.

“Oh, come on, we both know that I’ve got Mother Malfoy wrapped around my little finger.”

Draco offered him a half-hearted glare but said nothing else and his time, Harry enjoyed his triumph in complete silence. When it came to Draco, it wasn’t often that he got the upper hand twice in one day and he was determined to savour every second of it.

* * *

* * *

**Author's Note:**

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